Mr Creeper

By Kate Meyer-Currey

when you got with me I had no idea

it could be a life-sentence you’re an armed robber holding me under false imprisonment in my own body gun to my head until I get your bally off and see if you’re just a mosquito a runner fake cancer-gangster or a real big OC

man tumour ready to take me down

you’ve gone OT in my left boob conch

among its lumps cuckooing my cells

feeding my veins like county lines

waiting for reload so I’ve handed

myself in to the hospital to get your

mammogram mugshot and radiography

recognition so you stand out in a

microscope line up plus the biopsy of

tissue you left at the crime scene every contact

leaves a trace so either it’s a

case of mistaken identity wrong boob

wrong time or you’re bang at it making

me play russian roulette depends if

you’re just a rubber bullet or full metal

jacket collateral feels the same right now either

way you’re the snake that grassed

me up so I’ll be wired up when they send

a shank team in to get you out I hold you

to account for wrecking my gaff right now you’re

bailed to my home address and I’m waiting on

recall to hospital while you cook

up more dodgy cells to make me your

cancer crack whore roll on sentence date

hope you go away for good for possession

with intent to supply and I get out on tag

with breast care nurse probation to scare

me straight got a restraining order so stay

in your dead pool breach my chest wall again

and it won’t be double jeopardy no you’ll

be dead man walking because I’m living

my Shawshank Redemption fantasy baby

no word of a lie. Bang you’re dead to me.